The Lord of the Rings Characters go to Hogwarts
by Lucy Lupin
Summary: ABANDONED A HPLOTR crossover fic on what would happen if Aragorn et al were rebellious teens at the premier Wizarding Academy.
1. The Players and the Player Haters

Author's Note: A "What-if" piece that was just crying out to be written. Basically what I did was took the Lord of the Rings characters and placed them in a contemporary Harry Potter set-up. Needless to say it's not a serious piece. They are new students about to start a school year at Hogwarts. I haven't decided yet what year this will be in, and I have a real sense of the ludicrous so please bear with me.  
  
Enjoy!  
  
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Chapter One: The Players and the Player Haters  
  
"Give me back that broomstick," Eowyn Shieldmaiden ordered her older brother, Eomer.  
  
"No." Eomer smirked.  
  
"Why not?" Eowyn demanded.  
  
"Because girls can't play Quidditch, that's why," Eomer gave a lazy smile and hoisted the broom above his head. "Come get it off me, if you want."  
  
"Get bent," Eowyn snapped and marched back towards the front door of their lofty hilltop country estate. At the last second she spun around and kicked her brother in the shin.  
  
"OWWW!" Eomer howled. "Come back here, you little-"  
  
"Try and catch me, if you want," the much smaller and quicker Eowyn retorted, then turned on her heel and raced off.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Meanwhile Boromir Son of Gondor was having the opposite problem with his sibling. "Faramir, come down from that tree," he called. "I need someone to play Quidditch with me."  
  
"Boromir," his younger brother Faramir began, with the air of one whose patience was being unfairly taxed, "I have already explained this to you. I am reading Shakespeare and Rosalind is disguised as a boy and is talking to her lover Orlando. It's all very exciting."  
  
"It's kinky, that's what," Boromir grimaced.  
  
"I wouldn't expect you to understand," Faramir said loftily. "Now run along, I'm trying to read."  
  
"But I'm bored," Boromir whined.  
  
"Oh, I've just about had it with you!" Faramir finally lost his cool. "'I'm bored,' 'I'm hungry,' 'I'm tired,' 'I'm a klepto.' It's always about you!"  
  
Boromir stamped his foot on the ground and strode off. "I'm telling Daddy," he called.  
  
* * * * *  
  
"But Daddy," Arwen Undomiel pouted sulkily, "I want a Firebolt!"  
  
"Dearest," Elrond began pleadingly, "I've already bought you a Remembrall, cashmere robes for Hogwarts, a car when you can't even drive, a new pony, a diamond-studded wand and your very own House Elf. And you don't even play Quidditch."  
  
"So?" Arwen shrugged.  
  
"My point, dearest, is that I'm not made of money." Elrond sighed, running a hand through his thinning hair. Even on an immortal parent, Arwen was making her father go grey. "Besides, can't you borrow-" here his mouth twisted as if tasting something unpleasant "-Aragorn's broomstick if you so get the urge?"  
  
"Oh, but Daddy, everyone has a broomstick," Arwen snapped impatiently. "Legolas Greenleaf has one with a handle made out of emeralds, and I just can't compete. Well, I guess I'll just have to persuade you to come around in a reasonable, logical manner." She threw herself on the ground and starting kicking her legs in the air. "IWANNAFIREBOLTIWANNAFIREBOLT-"  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Messr Aragorn, yousa mussa givesa Gollum your clothesa," the house elf insisted impatiently, tugging on one end of the funky Che Guevara t-shirt.  
  
"No!" Aragorn Son of Arathorn said and tugged back.  
  
"But Messr Aragorn, you haventsa wasshahd your clothesa sinca yousa been here," Gollum pleaded, digging into the thin fabric with his scrawny fingers. "Pleasa, givesa to mesa."  
  
"What's it to you?" Aragorn huffed as he pulled on the t-shirt. "Tomorrow I'll be starting my seventh year at Hogwarts and there'll be house elves there to wash all our clothes. They'll insist on it. But Aragorn Son of Arathorn will not wash his hair or his clothes or any body cavity of any form until he is king!"  
  
"Jeez, refering to himself in third person," Gollum muttered under his breath. "What an ego."  
  
Aragorn paused. "What did you say? And anyway, I thought you had some kind of accent."  
  
"Oh yessa, good sirra," Gollum cried, bowing and bobbling frantically. "Messa nisa house elfsa with nosa desire for any nisa shiny ringsa."  
  
"What ring?" Aragorn frowned down at him. "What are you talking about?"  
  
"Noshing, noshing at all, good sirra," Gollum cried. "Nowsa messa is a- thinking that Missus Arwensa is a-lying on the grassa kicksing her legsa in the airsa."  
  
"Alright!" Aragorn cried and sprinted outside.  
  
"Phew, that was a close one," Gollum said.  
  
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Well, there you have it. And please don't ask me how Gollum knew Arwen was outside throwing a tantrum or how they all got to the United Kingdom in the first place. I'm allowed to not make sense :-) 


	2. All Aboard

Author's Note: This chapter sees the Lord of the Rings characters colliding head-on with the world of Hogwarts. I haven't "completely" decided how old Harry Potter and the rest of his year are going to be, but since I've given this a "PG" rating (soon to be changed to "PG-13"), I'm making them sixth years, old enough to have some, ahem, fun. And yes, MoreTheWolfGod, Legolas does finally make an appearance.  
  
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Chapter Two: All Aboard  
  
"Who's he?" Lavender Brown breathed to her friend, Parvati Patil. "Is he a student? Oh, but he looks far too tall. What a shame. He's GORGEOUS."  
  
"That hair," Parvati breathed.  
  
"Those eyes," her twin sister, Padma, finished.  
  
"Ugh, he looks gay," Seamus Finnegan, Lavender and Parvati's fellow Gryffindorian finished up, causing all three girls to shriek, "He does not!" and lampoon him with accusing glares.  
  
The object of their lust, and one's disdain, was a willowy blond leaning casually, yet elegantly, against a crumbling pillar on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. One well-manicured hand was tossing his shiny locks over his shoulder, while the other was clutching a worn copy of "The Sagely Elf's Guide to Tai Chi."  
  
"Look, I'm not saying I "want" him to be gay," Seamus continued, uncomfortable under three sets of eyes sending him death stares. "I mean, I'm straight, for crying out loud. I'm just saying that he most likely is. Look at the facts. He's reading a meditation guide. He's wearing tights-"  
  
"And I'm sure he buffs his nails," Dean Thomas, Seamus's best friend, chipped in.  
  
All four of his companions turned to stare at him. "How do you know what "buffing" is?" Parvati asked.  
  
"Weeelll," Dean began. Lavender, Parvati and Padma watched him expectantly. Seamus backed away. "Oh, come on!" Dean burst out. "I'm an artist! I'm supposed to look after my hands."  
  
"Yeah, whatever you say, mate," Seamus said.  
  
"Mate?" Lavender squealed. All three girls went, "Ewwww."  
  
"Bloody Merlin!" Now it was Seamus' turn to defend his heterosexualinity. "Me dad's Australian. They say "mate" down there to refer to their friends, not as in, you know, the Discover Channel's version of mate."  
  
"Always wondered why Australians had such a low population," Dean grinned. Seamus turned bright red and stomped off.  
  
The tall cool glass of blond elf had conjured his co-ordinating Louis Vuitton luggage set into the luggage compartment and had now made his graceful way onto the train, leaving three (and perhaps four) salivating students in his mist. Dean breathed a sigh of relief. He was an easy-going half-blood West Ham supporter [there's no accounting for taste - Arsenal supporting A/N] whose biggest argument in five years of wizarding education had been on why the poster of his favourite football team did not move. Now that the blonde was out of sight, he thought, here was his chance for some piece and quiet.  
  
How wrong he was.  
  
"Look at her," Parvati was simpering. "Look at that dog collar around her neck. How tacky. How cheap."  
  
"And wearing red patent leather knee high boots to the Yule Ball isn't cheap," Dean thought, but because his worse argument to date had been on why Muggle posters did not move, he kept his thoughts to himself, and turned to see what had earned the sharp, simpering tongues of his fellow sixth years.  
  
A girl with thick, wavy blonde hair had just marched through the brick wall separating the wizarding from the Muggle realm, pushing a trolley in front of her with one hand. With the other she was holding a broom with gleaming wood on her shoulder, as though at any minute she expected to swing it upwards and connect with an assailant's chin with a resounding crunch.  
  
Phwooaar, Dean thought [okay, perhaps there were only three students staring at Legolas - A/N].  
  
"Wow, "someone" has ODed on the eyeliner and the dark lipstick!" Padma took up the chase. "I mean, it's a statement, but who's going to kiss you?"  
  
"I would," Dean muttered.  
  
"And that uniform of her's," Lavender put her two Knuts worth in, "it must only be a first year's size, looking at the way it's clinging to her!" Dean was indeed looking. "Someone's certainly trying to play it tough. The skirts at least six inches above her knees, and as for the fishnet tights, well, I'll be very interested on hearing what McGonagall has to say about those!"  
  
Dean wasn't interested in hearing what anyone had to "say" about the petite but athletically-built blonde's tights. He only cared about "looking" at them, and the legs they enclosed.  
  
"Well," someone huffed behind him, "there's no accounting for what they let into this school, without restrictions on allowing only the proper wizarding families children to attend." Pansy Parkinson had joined the fray. "Doesn't that tramp have "halfblood" or "fallen pureblood family" written all over her, Draco darling? Draco?"  
  
Her smaller half was staring at the blonde, his jaw dusting the platform floor.  
  
"Let's go inside, Draco," Pansy snapped, and yanked him into a carriage by the collar of his shirt. Once again, Lavender, Parvati and Padma started to giggle. Dean resisted the urge to point his hands over his ears. After all, he had not had his worst argument within Hogwarts' walls over a West Ham poster for nothing.  
  
* * * * *  
  
A few carriages away Hermione Granger was making observations that were similar to Pansy's, albeit in a much-more tactful manner. "Hogwarts certainly has an interesting intake this year," she was telling the other two-thirds of the inseparable trio, Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter. "Look at that tall girl trying to get that poor creature to carry her luggage down to the end of the train." If Lavender, Parvati or Padma had been around, they would have observed with disgust that rather than being the elf's tasteful, tradition brown leather Louis Vuitton monogrammed bags, this newcomer's cases were a hideous patent leather blue.  
  
"Yeah, is that thing supposed to be her house elf?" Harry chuckled. "I'd rather have no house elf at all than one that looked like that. He must've come out of someone's garage sale."  
  
"What's a garage sale?" the pureblood Ron asked. "And, more importantly, what's a garage."  
  
"Well," Hermione began, "a garage is a perpendicularly adjointed appendage self-contained or attached to the main abode, typically constructed out of aluminum or the same material as the parent building-"  
  
"It's a room where Muggles store their cars," Harry cut in, seeing the confused look on Ron's face.  
  
"Excuse me," a deep voice boomed from behind the three, "how much longer before the train leaves?"  
  
A large, but not unattractive, boy was standing behind them with a much smaller and sulkier-looking boy standing in his wake. The first boy, Hermione reflected, had a cleft on his chin and lovely dimples in his cheeks when he smiled. Or leered, as the case may be.  
  
"In five more minutes," Hermione told him, glancing at the large clock embedded in the station wall. "I'd get seated and belted up-"  
  
"Belted up?" the first boy repeated, a gleam in his eye. Behind them the second boy cringed.  
  
"-shortly," Hermione finished, giving him an assessing look.  
  
"Will do. Is that a Prefect's badge I spy on your brea- err, cloak?"  
  
"It certainly is," Hermione said, flushing up proudly. Behind her Ron made a coughing noise that sounded oddly like "Percy!"  
  
"And it's your first year, undertaking this, er-"  
  
"Responsibility," the second boy supplied for him, rolling his eyes.  
  
"-I take it?"  
  
"It certainly is," Hermione repeated, flushing up further with every word. "How did you know?"  
  
"I guessed by the way you were pushing out your chest oh-so-proudly," the first boy leered. "Not that I mind, of course."  
  
Hermione's smile dropped. "Five points off, off, whatever house you end up in!" she cried. "Which, judging by that display, I'm sure will be Slytherin!"  
  
"Boromir, go and store our luggage away," the second brother ordered the first. "May I impose a technicality? The rulebook explicitly decrees that until term starts, which is on the Monday after the Sorting Ceremony, that points cannot be deducted from a student's house."  
  
"Didn't know that, eh, Hermione?" Harry asked with a grin.  
  
"Of course I knew that," Hermione said defensively.  
  
"But you just said-" Faramir persisted.  
  
"Oh, go get on the train, you, you bookworm!" Hermione cried, sending Harry and Ron doubling over, speechless with laughter.  
  
"Pot calling kettle black, eh?" Ron said when he'd finally recovered.  
  
As Hermione was seeking to retain what was left of her dignity, a large and heavy object collided with Harry - Neville Longbottom. "Come on, come on," he panted, hustling them towards the train. "I hear there's midgets on board!"  
  
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Author's Note: Not stellar, but I started this fic as a diversion so I don't want to knock myself out with it. Besides, study beckons... 


	3. The Journey to Hogwarts

Author's Note: Whoa, eighteen reviews and it's only at the second chapter! When I saw that tally I almost fell off my chair. I don't usually do this because I don't think I'd have the time to keep it up and I can't guarantee that I will in the future, but because of the number of reviews, I will respond to some valid queries a few of you had at the end of this chapter. I should really put in a separate author's note chapter, but then I would have to keep on pushing it back and, ah, I have a very limited tolerance level with technology. Anyway, enjoy the chapter!  
  
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Chapter Three: The Journey to Hogwarts  
  
"Hermione," Ron said, "put that book down. Term hasn't even started yet."  
  
"I most certainly will not," Hermione told him, her head bent over a ponderous-looking textbook. "Last year I got the highest OWL score in the past twenty years, and I'm a Prefect this year. I have a reputation to uphold. And I am going to graduate Top Girl if it kills me."  
  
"Why not just kill that guy who recited the rule book to you earlier?" Ron suggested, rolling his eyes. "It's him you're worried about, isn't it? But in case it's escaped your attention, he's MALE. Therefore you don't have to worry about his competition for Top Girl honours."  
  
"It didn't escape my attention," Hermione muttered, flicking over the page more roughly than necessary.  
  
"Oh, it didn't, eh?" Ron smirked. Hermione's scowl deepened. "You know, 'Mione," Ron continued, "despite being such a brainiac yourself, I've never really seen you go after the bookish types. I mean, take your track record. Gilderoy Lockhart. Cedric Diggory. Victor Krum-"  
  
"Fleur Delacourt," Hermione retorted.  
  
"I'll have you know that she was actually quite intelligent-"  
  
"Oh? And I suppose her "brains" were what you were oogling all through dinner every night during our fourth year?" Hermione snapped.  
  
"Well, if that's what you call them," Ron quipped. Hermione shot him a look that was positively nuclear. "Anyway, my point, and I do have one, is that I think you're afraid of being shown up by a man. So you deliberately go for ones that are significantly less intelligent than you."  
  
"Weeell, I did have a crush on you one year," Hermione mused, scratching her chin thoughtfully.  
  
"Oh, that's very funny," Ron snapped as Hermione collapsed with laughter. "Now will you put that blasted book down? I want to go and have a gander at those midgets Longbottom was yapping on about."  
  
"Just one more page," Hermione murmured, returning to her book.  
  
Ron sat thoughtfully for a minute, then grinned as an idea occurred to him. "You know, 'Mione, I really don't know what works for you nerds, and I'd rather continue not knowing, but I do believe that bloke's rule book recital was his version of hitting on you. Sort of like reading Shakespeare- "  
  
Hermione was no longer reading her book. Instead, she had hurled it at him.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Bearing his trusty Firebolt, Harry had looked around the rest of the compartments in his carriage, but they were all full. Well, the one containing Colin and Dennis Creevey wasn't, but he had wisely overlooked that fact. He was about to give up and go and ask Head Girl Cho Chang and her Hufflepuff boyfriend if he could share their cabin (he had a copy of Victor Krum's unofficial biography he could bury his nose in to ignore their continuous snogging), when he spotted a lone blonde in the last cabin on the right of the train.  
  
She was curled up in the corner next to the window, her long legs tucked under her and one hand absently twirling a strand of hair as she poured over the reading material she held in the other. Harry looked down, expecting to see a copy of Witches' Weekly or one of the beauty magazines Lavender and Parvati ceaselessly poured over, and was pleasantly surprised to see that she was clutching "Finus Flail's 101 Unbeatable Beater Drills." Pushing open the door, he asked, "May I sit here?"  
  
"It's free upholstery," the blonde shrugged without bothering to look up. Harry took the seat across from her and carefully placed his Firebolt on the shelf above him.  
  
With the blonde bent over her book, he was free to peruse her. Her skin was smooth and clear, save for the smattering of freckles across her nose that suggested she did get some sunlight. Her thick, wavy hair fell down to her waist, but not everything about her suggested that she went quietly into her conformity to ideal female beauty. Her dark nails, not to mention her combat boots and the studded collar encasing her swanlike neck, screamed rebellion. "New to Hogwarts this year?" he asked, and received a curt nod in response. "I've been here since my first year myself."  
  
"Good for you," came the husky rejoinder, but the manner of its delivery suggested that the speaker wished to be left alone rather than inflict serious hurt upon his ego. She would be a tough nut to crack, Harry reflected to himself. Fortunately, he was rather fond of nuts.  
  
Hagrid was his favourite staff member at the school, after all.  
  
Their conversation, or lack of it, continued in this vein for some time until the Hogwarts Express suddenly rounded one corner, causing Harry's Firebolt to slide off the shelf and crash to the floor of the cabin. Harry bent down to retrieve it, but the blonde had got there first. "Bloody hell," she gasped, "is this what I think it is?"  
  
Surprised by the sudden animation in her features, Harry did not respond instantly, but the blonde did not notice. "This is just the coolest thing," she continued. "The entire Irish team had them during the last world cup - not that it stopped Victor Krum from getting the Snitch, but he could have caught it on a Comet, he's so brilliant. It has a built-in autobrake and precision balance and can accelerate from zero to one hundred and fifty miles an hour in ten seconds - but of course you must know all that already- " She broke up abruptly, a sheepish grin stretching across her mouth. She had a lovely smile, Harry reflected, and dimples in her cheeks when she did. "How long have you had that for?"  
  
"Since my third year," Harry replied, and the girl's mouth fell open even further.  
  
"Merlin, you didn't have to save long for it, then! I've been putting away half my allowance every week since "my" third year."  
  
"We must be around the same age, then," Harry told her and extended a hand. "Harry Potter."  
  
"Eowyn Shieldmaiden," the girl responded, accepting his hand. There was an awkward pause, which Harry broke by asking her what she thought of her book. "It's pretty good," she said, "but I have a problem with drill fifty- three, which is dependent on all three Chasers have brooms of roughly the same speed."  
  
"Perhaps Malfoy could use it then," Harry said, reflecting bitterly on how the Slytherin Seeker and now captain had bought his way onto his house team by purchasing Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones for the entire team.  
  
"-And since this book is meant to be written for Quidditch amateurs, which would mean a lot of school children that may not all come from wealthy families that could afford the latest make, I think it's a bit of a tough call, really," Eowyn was saying.  
  
"-And some families could afford a new broom, but may not want to update their child's every year for fear of spoiling them," Harry added.  
  
"Exactly!" Eowyn punctuated him. They stared at each other for a several seconds, this time Eowyn breaking it off. "You don't think I could, um, hold it, could you?"  
  
*Hold it,* Harry thought. *Hold "it"?* [Innocent little Harry, I hear you ask, making sexual innuedos? Oh come on, he's a sixteen year old boy who's been in the company of Fred and George Weasley for the previous five years. How innocent can he be? - A/N] "Oh, you mean my Firebolt?"  
  
"Yeah," Eowyn gave him an assessing, level look. "What else would I be talking about?"  
  
"Er, nothing," Harry said. *Get your mind out of the potty, Harry,* he told himself. *She seems like a nice girl.*  
  
"Well," Eowyn said. "Can I?"  
  
"Oh," Harry broke out of his reverie. "Yes, sorry, of course you can hold it. My Firebolt. That is." Feeling flustered, Harry took if off the shelf he had replaced it on during the course of their conversation and handed it to her. "In fact, when we get to Hogwarts you can go one better and ride it if you like." *Stop it, Potter, stopitstopit.*  
  
"Thank you. I'd enjoy that," Eowyn said, smiling up at him and running one hand over the sleek mahogany wood.  
  
After the Sorting Ceremony, Harry decided, he would have a very long and very cold shower.  
  
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Author's Note: Some of you have asked me why Gollum talks like Jar Jar Binks. I just thought it would be cute if he did, since I thought Gollum was absolutely adorable in the movie (and yes, I am not only aware that it "was" based on a book, but have read the book multiple times). You can see when he's talking to Aragorn in the first chapter, his accent slips a bit. It's a put-on to make himself look defenseless and adorable when he's obviously after the ring. I just wanted to leave room for something to happen with his character if I felt like it. Perhaps Gollum's even watched "The Phantom Menace," hmm, plot bunny! As I've said before, this is meant to be a silly fic and I'm going to be doing a few more nonsensical things in it.  
  
little-lost-one: If you have a theory on how they all got to the UK, fic it up! I for one would be interested in reading it.  
  
shewhodares: Yes, the girl with the broomstick was Eowyn. Thanks for your reviews as usual. And in reference to your Natalia Adani review, I won't comment on your choice of soccer team *cough* *cough* spice boys! *cough* ;- )  
  
Star of the South: Well, Eowyn does seem to be rather attached to her broom, who knows? And most of them are reasonably athletic, so they would make quite interesting additions to the house teams.  
  
Tori: Aragorn and Arwen are living together because Elrond was bringing Aragorn up in the book (that continues here). I'm afraid I'm going to portray Arwen as being something of a brat, since that's just how I've pictured her in a contemporary setting. But for what it's worth, I apologise if you're offended by the deviation in her character. I also did not intend Eowyn to come across as cheap, rather I thought I'd depicted her as more the rebellious goth and that her additions (dog collar, fishnet tights) are ironic takes on a school uniform, and an ironic take of the ideal of female beauty, come to that. Those comments are just the sort of things Parvati, Padma and Lavender would say (they're probably jealous). I added some touches, like how well looked after Eowyn's broom is and how assertive she is with Eomer, to let people know that not all is as it would appear. And yes, there will definitely be some Hermione/Faramir tension in forth-coming chapters!  
  
Again, thanks to everyone who reviewed, and thank you, kizuna kasumi, for adding me to your favourites list. Hopefully I get this up soon. 


	4. The Continuing Journey to Hogwarts

Author's Note: Well, here we are again. Just in case you're interested, I have not abandoned my "Natalia Adani and the Boys of Hogwarts" fic. She just requires a little more time than this one; she is a very high maintenance woman. But thank you for reading this one and thank you to all the reviewers. I write for myself and I'm not one of those people who majorly stress out over reviews (or lack of them) but it's nice to have them all the same.  
  
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Chapter Four: The Continuing Journey to Hogwarts  
  
"Mister Frodo, can I get you a chocolate frog?" the chubby, waist-high midget with furry feet, otherwise known as a Hobbit, asked his companion in the carriage.  
  
"No, I'm fine, thank you, Sam," Frodo said, flicking through his copy of "The Idiot's Guide to Sindarin Elvish." "I have five meals before I got on the train, so I shouldn't need anything until we reach Hogwarts. Can you believe that Big Folk wizarding schools have only "three" meals a day? No wonder Aragorn looks as though we could use his shoulder blades as can openers."  
  
"Hmm, wish I'd thought of that while we were starving on top of Weathertop that year we all decided to go on a camping trip for Spring Break," Sam said. "Daft idea that. Our folk definitely do not travel well. Bertie Botts Many-Flavoured Beans sound better, Mister Frodo?"  
  
"No thank you, Sam," Frodo replied. "Yes, that trip was a blast, wasn't it? And what Merry and Pippin got up to with Farmer Maggot's crops? I will never look at a carrot the same way again, much less eat one."  
  
"But surely, Mister Frodo, a Tossflossing Stringmint might suffice-" Sam persisted.  
  
"Look, Sam, I'm not hungry!" Frodo finally lost it. "Your function in life is not just to serve me, you know." Sam looked shocked. "Oh, forget it," Frodo shrugged angrily. "And remember," his voice dropped, "I asked you to "never" call me Mister unless we were in a certain, um, predicament. If Bilbo were to find out, I'd lose my inheritance. Now I'm going to check on Merry and Pippin and see that they're not making too much of a nuisance of themselves." He rose to his feet and pushed through the door.  
  
Left alone in the cabin, Sam sighed softly and sadly, "Now you've gone and hurt my feelings, Mister Frodo."  
  
* * * * *  
  
A few cabins down, Faramir looked up from "As You Like It" and asked his brother, "Which house do you want to be in?"  
  
"The house that has all the hot chicks, man," Boromir responded. "Like that Prefect chick back at the station. She's a little lembas-chested, but I most definitely would."  
  
"She also seems terribly intellectual," Faramir said stiffly, giving his brother that was younger in everything but age a stern look. "She would be a fascinating person to have a conversation with."  
  
"A fascinating person to have a conversation with?" Boromir repeated in disbelief. "Have you seen her legs? Her arse? Dude, you have no appreciation of the finer things in life." He burped and returned to his copy of Playboy. "Jeez, I didn't know these Muggle women had jugs like that or could do "that"! No wonder pureblood families are dying out."  
  
*Is this the only earth I can live on* Faramir thought miserably and returned to his well-thumbed Shakespearean comedy.  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Hermione and Male Nerd, sitting in a tree-"  
  
"You can just shut it, Ronald Weasley!"  
  
"K-I-S-S-I-N-G-"  
  
"I've about had it with you-"  
  
"And they look so happy to be around-"  
  
"RON! SHUT UP!"  
  
"Until the Whomping Willow knocks them to the ground."  
  
"AHHHH! WHY DO MY TWO BEST FRIENDS HAVE TO BE MALE?"  
  
"Well, it's either me and Harry or Club Divination," Ron told her, grinning broadly. "Club Divination" referred to the cerebral wastelands that were Lavender and Parvati; two girls he knew Hermione despised. He also knew to say "Harry and I" and not "me and Harry," but additionally knew [yes, I need a thesaurus, but I don't think Ron's vocabulary is very developed anyway - A/N] how much improper grammar pissed Hermione off. Correctly guessing his word choice to be deliberate, Hermione glared at him but refused to rise to the bait. "You like him," Ron goaded.  
  
"I do not," Hermione said with the sort of calmness that is so calm that it can only come from someone trying to maintain her temper, and therefore not really calm at all [???? - A/N].  
  
"Then why do you keep on denying it, huh?" Ron beamed.  
  
"Probably because you keep on asking me and out of politeness I'm required to give you an answer, Sherlock," Hermione told him, rolling her eyes.  
  
"Who's Sherlock?" Ron asked.  
  
"He's a very famous Muggle detective known for the mysteries he solved in the nineteenth century," Hermione happily slipped back into her bookworm role. "I'll get my younger brother to send over some of his books if you like."  
  
"Oh, "that" Sherlock," Ron breathed, clapping a hand to his forehead. "But he was never a Muggle, you know. He was one of ours."  
  
"Oh, sure," Hermione said bitterly. "Like Abraham Lincoln, and Gandhi, and Pele, and Robin Hood. Keep all the good ones to yourself, why don't you? Well, "my" brother is top of his year at Eton, and he has yet to display any non-Muggle inclinations."  
  
The cabin door burst open and two figures the size of small children tumbled into the room. "Quick, quick," panted one, "take my wand." Perplexed, Ron took the instrument from him, then shrieked and dropped it as it turned into a rubber but very life mouse. The two midgets high-fived each other then sprinted out of the room. Crookshanks sprung into life and leapt out of his wicker travel basket.  
  
"One of Fred's and George's fake wands," Ron muttered as the mouse darted out of the room, Crookshanks in hot pursuit. "Their spirit lives on."  
  
Hermione stifled a giggle.  
  
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little-lost-one: Great idea. Where's the fic?  
  
Tori: Can I use your term "Divination Groupies" in future fics? 


	5. Sorted Out

Author's Note: Some of you have pointed out that this story has more "footage" of Harry Potter characters than of their LOTR counterparts. I originally intended it to be the reverse, but it has worked out the other way. Because this is set in Hogwarts and told mainly from the perspective of HP, I will shortly be changing this from a LOTR to a HP story in my story summary. Just to let you know so if you search for it, look in the HP section.  
  
This has been complete for a while, but fanfiction.net won't let me log in, so I can't update (tears out hair in frustration).  
  
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Chapter Five: Sorted Out  
  
"Harry?" Hermione called. "Harry Potter?" At his full name the faces of both Creeveys lit up, then fell once they realised it was a false alarm. "Oh, blast it, where is he? If we don't get onto a carriage soon, we'll be stuck outside the Great Hall behind all the first years."  
  
"And it will be the "prefect," oops, I meant "prefect" occasion to impart your wisdom and brainwash susceptible first years," Ron teased her. Hermione tried to scowl at him, but ended up dropping her head to hide the eventual grin. "Wouldn't think you'd want to pass up an opportunity like that."  
  
"What I do want is good seats," Hermione fretted, shifting from one foot to the other. "The sorting ceremony is a prime opportunity for me to pinpoint and take note of potential troublemakers and ill-doers."  
  
"Good seats?" Ron repeated. "Herm, it's the sorting ceremony, not a Quidditch match."  
  
"Please don't call me Herm," Hermione grimaced. "It sounds too close for comfort, to, well-"  
  
"What?" Ron coaxed.  
  
Hermione ducked her head, her face burning. "If you don't know I really shouldn't tell you. But with Fred and George for brothers, I thought you'd be a lot more clued up on that sort of thing."  
  
"What's going on here?" Harry asked, bounding up to them. He was breathing hard and his face was an even deeper shade of red than Hermione's.  
  
"Where have you been?" Hermione demanded, giving him an analytical once- over. "And why are you all red?" She placed a cool hand upon his forehead. "Look, you're short of breath and you're even burning up! You should really go and see Madame Pomfrey the instant we get indoors. In fact, as a prefect I was given a copy "The Wizarding Ways of First Aid" and I've been dying to use the charms on someone all summer-"  
  
"Oh, it's nothing a cold shower won't take care of," Harry said, sharing a knowing look with Ron.  
  
"Well, actually, they recommend hot, steamy showers if you're congested," Hermione explained. Ron and Harry's smiles grew wider. "In fact-" She broke off as her eyes followed their stares over to a slim blonde stepping daintily into a boat along with the other new students. "Boys! I think I'll just have a carriage to myself this time!"  
  
"Oh, c'mon Hermione, we love you, really," Harry called after her, trying to fight down giggles, but she had already slammed the door of her carriage in their faces.  
  
* * * * *  
  
When Harry and Ron finally arrived at the imposing entrance of Hogwarts, Hermione was there to greet them with a perfunctionary glare. After walking inside, they could see why. The first years had already arrived and were crowding up the staircase, making it impossible for anyone else to pass.  
  
As unobtrusively as possible, the three of them crept up the stairs and huddled at the bottom of the waiting first years. "Late on my first day as Prefect," Hermione was muttering to herself. "How embarrassing. "Great" impression that will make."  
  
The boy who had been called "Boromir" by his brother was standing near the top of the stairs and was boring his eyes into Hermione's back, willing her to turn around and face him. When she finally did, he grinned and mouthed "Hey, baby" to her. She said "Hmph!" and spun around on her heel, presenting him with her back.  
  
"I don't mind, sweetcakes," he called down to her. "That's your best side!" At that moment he turned and spotted Professor McGonagall, who had materialised out of the Great Hall and was staring down at him with a distasteful look on her face. "Er, well-"  
  
"Those of you who are new Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall began, giving Hermione a meaningful look, who smiled sheepishly up at her, "I congratulate you all on being accepted, and on behalf of the students and my colleagues, welcome you. Shortly the sorting ceremony will begin. I am Professor McGonagall, and I am in charge of proceedings-"  
  
"Minerva McGonagall?" Faramir stepped forward, his eyes wide with wonder. "I read your historical account of past amigali. I found it absolutely fascinating. Its always intrigues me what different, and some may say "more genuine," aspects of their personalities that people show around animals."  
  
"Boring," Hermione yawned.  
  
Ron looked over at her in surprise. "Wasn't it just last term that you drove Harry and I to narcolepsy by insisting on reading out to us "The Nine Lives of Petunia Paddlefoot: Amigalus Extraordinaire"?"  
  
"Yeah, but that was last term," Hermione said. "Live in the now." Ron saw her cringe at the colloquialism that she had forced from her lips, and grinned.  
  
Professor McGonagall, meanwhile, was actually blushing. "Well, dearie me," she giggled, a sound which Hermione in her five years at Hogwarts had never before heard. "It is perfectly obvious which house "you" will be sorted into, but feel free to stop by my classroom sometime for a cup of tea. We clearly have a lot to discuss."  
  
"I will be honoured," Faramir said, sweeping into a low bow, which caused Professor McGonagall's blush to deepen. Behind them Hermione, who despite her stellar marks had never been offered so much as a rice cracker by her house head, was looking scandalised. "Teacher's pet!" she hissed, which caused Harry and Ron to conveniently start coughing.  
  
"Now," Professor McGonagall had resumed her business-like air, "we shall proceed to the Great Hall."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Three boxes of Bertie Botts' Many-Flavoured Beans that the elf will end up in Slytherin," Dean Thomas whispered across the table to Harry and Ron.  
  
"Sh!" Lavender Brown gave him a scandalised look. "You'll jinx him!"  
  
"Four boxes that he'll end up in Slytherin," Seamus Finnegan challenged Dean, delighting in the horrified expressions on Lavender's and Parvati Patil's faces.  
  
"Look, you are not to bet on the first years," Hermione cut in, placing a restraining hand on Seamus' arm. "It's cruel and insensitive and I won't tolerate in my own house."  
  
"Five chocolate frogs the blonde girl will end up in Slytherin," Dean whispered. "Any takers?"  
  
"I'll challenge that; she's one of ours," Harry spoke up, surprising himself. Hermione gave him a betrayed look.  
  
"Nah, she's a Ravenclaw all over," Ron challenged him. "Those piercing eyes- "  
  
"The next person who bets on the first years will receive a detention and ten points from Gryffindor, which will make us the first house ever in Hogwarts history to start the term on negative points!" Hermione finally lost it. "And I will do it too!"  
  
"What about that ignoramous at the station?" Ron queried. "You promise to take points off him. What if he ends up here?"  
  
"He won't," Hermione said loftily. "If he's not a Slytherin, then I'm a Malfoy."  
  
At the mention of the pureblood family, Ron made a face.  
  
Professor McGonagall had stepped forward, placing the Sorting Hat onto the stool in front of the teachers' table and unravelling the scroll in front of her. "Now, when I call your name, you are to step forward and place the Sorting Hat upon your head," she began, "and then proceed to the table of the house it sorts you into. Samwise Gamgee."  
  
A tubby little blond boy, who on closer inspection was nearer to their own age, ambled self-consciously to the front of the room. He was so short that a tall teenager with wayward dark hair that Hermione hadn't seen before had to step forward and lift him on to the stool. The hat was barely above his head when it called out, "HUFFLEPUFF!" The boy slid off the stool and ran over to the Hufflepuff table, which applauded politely.  
  
"Two chocolate frogs you owe me," Seamus whispered to Neville, looking warily over at Hermione to make sure she hadn't heard.  
  
"Frodo Baggins!" Professor McGonagall called.  
  
Another short boy, this time with a dark thatch of hair, strode up to meet his fate, or doom, depending on which house he was sorted into. Unlike the first boy, however, he leapt nimbly onto the stool.  
  
The hat paused, then cried out, "GRYFFINDOR!"  
  
Harry, Hermione, Ron and the rest of their table applauded, Ron leaning over to give the boy a high, or rather, "low" five as he scrambled onto the bench in between Lavender and Harry. His blond friend at the Hufflepuff table, curiously, was sobbing miserably into Hannah Abbot's lap.  
  
"Legolas Greenleaf!"  
  
Every pair of female eyes - and a few male pairs too, if truth be told - honed in on the tall, lithe blond as he positioned himself upon the stool and placed the Sorting Hat on top of his head. Professor Sprout was giggling into her goblet of pumpkin juice, watched over by a disdainful Snape. Then...  
  
"SLYTHERIN!" the hat roared.  
  
The blond flounced over to the table on the far side of the room. Lavender and Parvati threw their arms around each other and wailed. Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode smirked over at the Gryffindor table. The male Slytherins, however, looked less-than-thrilled about the latest edition to their house.  
  
The sorting ceremony continued on. The tall, dark and ruggedly handsome teenager who had helped the little blond boy onto the stool was sorted into Ravenclaw, where despite several complimentary female glances in his direction, settled himself down the far end of the table and proceeded to smoke his pipe, hood shading his eyes [A/N - I had to slip it in somewhere]. The gorgeous alabaster-skinned girl whose house elf Harry had earlier commented over was sorted into Slytherin - and promptly threw a rafter-raising tantrum ("Sorting Hat got that one spot on," Seamus observed). Professor Snape ended up placing her under the freezing curse. Another small boy by the name of Peregrin Took, who like Frodo, attempted to jump onto the stool, but unlike Frodo, fell off, was placed in Gryffindor. His friend, Meriadoc Brandybuck, joined him.  
  
"Great, just what I need," Ron muttered. "I escape Fred and George, and then two more jokers join my house." His sister Ginny patted him consolingly on the shoulder, but flashed a quick smile at Hermione.  
  
"Faramir, son of Gondor."  
  
"There goes your friend," Ron whispered to Hermione, who was trying very hard not to look in Faramir's direction. His strawberry blond hair glinting under the candlelit ceiling, Faramir approached a blushing Professor McGonagall and placed the hat upon his head.  
  
"RAVENCLAW!" the hat called out.  
  
Cho Chang and her comrades burst into applause. "Ravenclaw? What a NERD!" Hermione said loudly, causing Ron to bang his fists upon the table and collapse with laughter against Harry, who patted his shoulder while trying to fight off his own smile. "What? Was it something I said?"  
  
"Look, there's your other friend," Harry said quickly, trying to distract her from the now-howling Ron Weasley. Boromir's fate was being decided. The hat was on his head for what seemed like an eternity, then called out...  
  
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Author's Note: Heh heh, I decided to leave you on a cliffhanger. I haven't been able to update as often as usual because of exams and university assignments, but the next chapter shouldn't be very long, so I should have it up soon.  
  
Aislynn Crowdaughter: Thank for your review, and greetings to you too! I like it when people review with constructive criticism; it keeps me on my toes. I do realise that there is more of HP than LOTR characters, which is why I will soon be changing this to a HP fic. I also made the LOTR characters a lot younger and placed them in a contemporary setting, which hopefully explains some of the character changes. Arwen may be wise and good after living a milennia, but she may not be that way at seventeen with an overly-doting father. And don't worry, I have something special planned for Gimli. I'm glad you like my depiction of Ron. I wanted to make him less sulky than in some fics I've read, because I think that especially with the absence of Fred and George, he could be a pretty funny guy.  
  
ears91: I actually have no idea why Harry didn't sit with Ron and Hermione like he normally would. Maybe some latent instinct made him look for Eowyn? :)  
  
MoroTheWolfGod: Don't worry, I have some good ideas for Legolas that I'm just holding back out of cruelty. Actually, I'm not but they need to be used in context (ie: Quidditch matches, classes) and I just haven't quite got to those stages yet.  
  
Tori: Hope your friend enjoyed my fic. And even though she's a R/H shipper and I'm not, I hope she enjoyed the chemistry they have together as friends.  
  
The rest of you, thanks for reading, hoped you enjoyed it, and please don't flame me if you don't like the houses I have sorted LOTR characters into. More soon! 


	6. But I'm a Pisces

Author's Note: "The next chapter shouldn't be very long, so I should have it up soon." Talk about famous last words! I get down on my hands and knees and apologise a thousand times over for the delay in getting this up.  
  
I'm also considering changing this from a "PG-13" to a "R" rating to allow, shall we say, a little inter-novel "bonding." If you have any thoughts, positive or negative, on this, or if you are under seventeen and would just die if I changed the ratings, please let me know.  
  
I'm feeling a teensy bit insecure as I write this because an Arthur/Molly fic I've been slaving over did not get the response I was expecting and while I don't die without reviews, if something I've written only gets one I do sort of wonder if something went wrong. I'm sure all you writers out there can relate. In my case I'm putting it down to pre-exams nerves :)  
  
Whoa, if you ever want to find out the amount of Legolas fans out there, sort him into Slytherin! Just kidding, you guys know I love you.  
  
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Chapter Six: But I'm a Pisces..  
  
"GRYFFINDOR!" the sorting hat boomed.  
  
"NOOO!" Hermione shrieked.  
  
Only Harry and Ron noticed her cry of dismay, as the rest of the house was applauding loud enough to bring down the bewitched stars in the ceiling. Boromir bounded over to the table, his eyes lighting when he saw the now- hyperventilating Hermione there. Squashing the hapless Colin Creevey, he plopped down next to her and breathed, "Hello, gorgeous."  
  
Harry wisely removed the knife from her clenched fist.  
  
"Hermione," Ron whispered, "you okay?"  
  
"I, er, think I'm going to go to the bathroom for a while - for, like, well, the rest of the evening, or week, or school year," she mumbled, leaping to her feet and rushing towards the doorway. In the process she collided with Draco Malfoy.  
  
The room had gone quiet, awaiting the verdict of a rangy blond who had been summoned as "Eomer of Rohan." If he had realised who had bumped into him, he probably would have let her fall, if not hexed her to oblivion. However, instinctively Draco had grabbed Hermione's arms, steadying her against himself.  
  
Hermione was not the smartest girl in the school for nothing. Leaning into him, she licked her lower lip suggestively, than said in a voice loud enough for the entire Gryffindor table to hear, "So, Draco, your room or mine?"  
  
Harry's goblet clattered to the floor.  
  
"I, er, bu-but I'm a Pisces!" Draco blurted out.  
  
"Really?" Hermione purred, toying with his shirt collar. "Well, I'm a Sagittarius. We're perfectly compatible."  
  
"Doesn't she know that fire and water signs cancel each other out?" Lavender, aghast, whispered to an ashen-faced Parvati. "No wonder she dropped out of Transfiguration."  
  
"That's where you must get your sensitivity from," Hermione continued. Her hand had now moved up to Draco's hair.  
  
"Sensitivity?" Ron snorted. "What sensitivity?"  
  
"Well, I'd just like you to know, Draco," Hermione breathed, shooting a look out of the corner of her eye to make sure that Boromir was watching, "that I can be very, very sensitive too." She cupped the back of Draco's necked then pulled him in for a mouth clench that would have rivalled a suction cup.  
  
Harry and Ron gasped with horror. Seamus Finnegan guffawed. Dean Thomas had pulled out a stopwatch and was beginning to time Draco and Hermione. Neville Longbottom looked like he was about to cry.  
  
"SLYTHERIN!" the sorting hat yelled.  
  
Hermione finally released Draco, the latter blushing furiously and seemingly unable to move. Steam was coming out of his ears, and Professor McGonagall's too. Taking his shoulders, Hermione turned him around and gave him a gentle push in the direction of the Slytherin table.  
  
Pansy Parkinson shot him a black glare as he sat down. Seeing her chance, Millicent Bulstrode chose a more soothing tactic. "Oh, poor baby," she crooned. "Imagine being kissed by a mudblood. You'll have to wash your mouth out for a week now."  
  
Draco, however, did not seem to mind Hermione's particular form of impurity.  
  
"Eowyn Shieldmaiden," McGonagall called out, her voice shaking with barely- suppressed anger at Hermione's display of adolescent hormones. The petite blonde walked up to the front of the room, her lips clenched as she took her position on the stool.  
  
Harry could see Crabbe and Goyle at the Slytherin table leering at her. Draco was still in shock from Hermione's attempt to resuscitate her changes of escaping unscathed from a year in Gryffindor with Boromir. The elf was searching his hair for split ends. *Please don't let her go to Slytherin*, he thought desperately. *Please, please don't let her become one of them*.  
  
"HUFFLEPUFF!" the hat cried out.  
  
Harry applauded along with the house in yellow and black. Eowyn sat down near the end of the table, declining Ernie MacMillan's offer to sit next to him with a crisp shake of her head.  
  
With Eowyn being the last student sorted into a house, the festivities continued in full swing. Lavender and Parvati were comparing tan lines. Seamus and Dean were watching Lavender and Parvati. Legolas was still looking for split ends.  
  
Hermione, meanwhile, was hitting on everything that moved and was wearing pants. "So, Ron," she breathed huskily. "Come here often?"  
  
"Er, this is my house," he replied falteringly.  
  
Refusing to give up, Hermione squared herself up against Dean. "I hear that artists have "wonderful" hands," she sighed, gazing adoringly into his eyes. "I like to see yours go to work sometime."  
  
"Yes, I apply cocoa butter to them three times daily," Dean squealed, holding up a well-manicured hand. Seamus and Ron started to snigger.  
  
Throughout the meal Harry noticed the little blond Hobbit from Hufflepuff kept on popping over to the Gryffindor table, asking "Do you have enough pumpkin juice?" "Would you like some of ours?" "How are you with mashed potatoes?" all the while shooting wistful looks at Frodo Baggins.  
  
When he came over to make sure that the Gryffindor table had, well, a table, Hermione, having hit on all the males in sight, pounced on him. "Hey, sugar," she crooned, "how about you and I make good time and do the bad thing after dinner? I hear being waist high has distinct advantages."  
  
"I am a man of the cloth," the hobbit replied stiffly and walked off.  
  
"Jeez, baby," burped Boromir, "if ya wanted a threesome, ya shoulda just told me."  
  
Hermione's Boromir avoidance tactic was clearly not going as planned.  
  
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A/N: I usually respond to people's reviews at the end of this, but right now I'm just too darn tired. They will be covered in the next chapter, which will have more on the LOTR characters perspectives and reactions to Hogwarts. Hm, how about some nice sibling friction between Eomer and Eowyn and the brothers of Gondor, and exactly what is going on between Frodo and Sam?  
  
Thanks for reading and many props to you all! 


	7. Porn, isn't that a type of Grain?

Author's Note: Just to clarify, here are the houses that everyone has been sorted into:  
  
GRYFFINDOR: Frodo Baggins, Boromir, Meriadic Brandybuck, Peregrin Took  
  
HUFFLEPUFF: Samwise Gamgee, Eowyn Shieldmaiden  
  
RAVENCLAW: Aragorn, Faramir  
  
SLYTHERIN: Arwen, Eomer, Legolas (and Gollum by default as Arwen's house elf)  
  
Obviously I could not put every single person in Gryffindor (because if I was to be accurate most would be there), but I think bearing that in mind, I got it pretty close. Eowyn stood by her uncle for years watching both his kingdom and his health fall into decay, yet held her tongue and silently went about her duties. Now if that's not a Hufflepuff, I don't know what is. And some stuff I said that would happen in this chapter actually happens in the next. This one just sort of reached a natural closure point and I have my last exam tomorrow, so I wanted to get this up for your perusal.  
  
Enjoy!  
  
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Chapter Seven: Porn, isn't that a type of Grain?  
  
"Five green bottles hanging on the wall - THUMP, THUMP - Five green bottles hanging on the wall - THUMP, THUMP - If one green bottle should accidentally fall - THUMP - ow, Merry, my head! - There'll be four green bottles hanging on the wall!"  
  
"When will they ever shut up?" Ron moaned to Harry. "It's four o'clock in the morning!"  
  
Harry groaned and burrowed his head beneath his pillow. Everyone else had long gone to bed but his new housemates, Merry and Pippin, had been jumping up and down on the four-poster bed that they shared. They were now in the final innings of their song, which had started at "One hundred thousand green bottles hanging on the wall."  
  
Ron opened the curtains around his bed. Frodo Baggins was sitting on his bed, reading a ponderous-looking novel. Stepping onto the cold stone floor and tip-toeing over to him, Ron whispered, "Are they always like this?"  
  
"Oh, this is pretty good for them," Frodo shrugged. "At least this time the lyrics aren't obscene. And they haven't started singing-"  
  
"THIS IS THE SONG THAT DOESN'T END! IT JUST GOES ON AND ON, MY FRIEND! SOME PEOPLE STARTED SINGING IT NOT KNOWING WHAT IT WAS! AND THEY CONTINUED SINGING IT FOR EVER JUST BECAUSE THIS IS THE SONG THAT DOESN'T END-"  
  
"Yep, that's the one," Frodo confirmed. Ron started tearing out his hair.  
  
Harry exploded out from his curtains, wrapping his robe around himself. "Right, I can't take this anymore," he said. "It's useless trying to get some sleep with all this din going on. Who's up for taking a trip downstairs and visiting the house elves for some coffee?"  
  
"Count me in," Ron said, yawning. "You coming, Frodo?"  
  
"Yeah, why not?" the hobbit shrugged, scrambling down the side of the bed and sliding his feet into his slippers. "Although I prefer green tea though. It's a much healthier form of caffeine."  
  
"Whatever turns you on," Ron told him.  
  
"Do you have to be so crass all the time?" Harry asked, glaring at him [A/N - He's one to talk]. The three boys departed the dorm.  
  
They were clearly not the only ones disturbed by Merry and Pippin's "bed- thumping." Colin and Dennis Creevey were downstairs, yawning and scratching sleep from their eyes. A crowd of younger boys were also in the common room, some cat-napping in the leather armchairs. Being one of the senior dorms, the sixth year boys' bedroom was on one of the top floors, and the noise had obviously travelled down to the floors below.  
  
Hermione was also downstairs, her brown curls scattered around her face. Much to everyone's relief, she had outgrown the hideous pink gown she had worn in her first year and was now wearing a cherry red flannel robe over her pyjamas. "The noise travels all the way to the girls' dorms too?" Ron asked her.  
  
"No, Boromir is in my bed," Hermione said icily. "I got back from my shower and he was in there waiting for me. I didn't realise it until I was actually in bed. He was happy to see me. Don't ask me how I know that."  
  
"Is he still happy to see you?" Harry asked.  
  
"No," Hermione responded. "It has something to do with how I got rid of him." Ron and Harry both winced. "Needless to say I've been down here all evening," she continued. "How he found out the password to the girls' dorms, I'll never know - Ron, why are you whistling?"  
  
The four sixth years walked down the hall and found the portrait with the tickling fruit, the secret entry to the kitchen. True to his word, Frodo ordered green tea, which Hermione instantly bonded over with him, using the occasion to lecture Harry and Ron on the evils of coffee.  
  
"We'll see who's still standing during Binns lecture," Ron told her, reaching for his second expresso.  
  
"Hello, Hermione Miss!" a voice squeaked, and Winky stood next to them, wringing her hands eagerly in her apron. "How may I been of service to you?"  
  
"We're fine now, thanks," Ron said, beginning to shake from his coffee.  
  
"How's Dobby?" Harry asked her.  
  
"He is not only still being paid, Harry Potter sir," Winky's voice dropped to a whisper, her large brown eyes solemn and grave, "but he is now demanding a raise and a promotion and a corner office. He is a disgrace to all good house elves. Next, sir, he will be demanding mental health days and maternity leave!"  
  
"Yes, disgraceful, he doesn't need maternity leave," Ron agreed through chattering teeth. Hermione shot him a dark look. "Oh, come on, he's a male! It was a joke, Herm!"  
  
"How often do I have to ask you not to call me that?" she snapped.  
  
"But I'm not even sure what word it's supposed to sound close to," Ron protested. Frodo put down his cup of tea and whispered in his ear. "Oh," said Ron, and turned bright red.  
  
"Now, Hermione Granger ma'am, are you sure there is nothing you are wanting?" Winky persisted.  
  
"No, I'm fine, thank you, Winky," Hermione said. Her stomach growled in protest. "I hate to impose upon you. You know how much I object to indentured servants and slave labour."  
  
Winky looked almost sly. "There is a lovely mudcake I have just finished icing."  
  
Hermione was a woman caught between her morals and a mouth-watering slice of chocolate cake. She glanced from Harry, who pretended to be engrossed in a spot on the ceiling, and Ron, who was trying not to giggle. "Well, if it's already made-" she began.  
  
"Excellent! Here you are, Hermione ma'am!" Winky snapped her fingers, and an entire mudcake appeared on her lap. Ron reached over and grabbed two slices. Frodo did too, but possessing manners that Ron lacked and being a Hobbit, after all, passed over one of the slices to Harry.  
  
A low wailing suddenly broke out from a far corner, causing them all to start. Hunched over was a strange-looking man in black. He had skin so pale that it looked as though it had never seen sunlight and his greasy dark hair was hanging down around his face in clumps. A wart was near one eye. In short he looked like a vampire, but without any form of sex appeal.  
  
"Who's that?" Harry asked, feeling for his wand in his pocket. The person had that kind of impression on people.  
  
"That is Master Dumbledore's latest edition to the kitchen," Winky explained in hushed tones. "He could not find work anywhere else, and Dumbledore often employs those who others may not. Bad Winky, bad!" She stopped and slapped her forehead.  
  
"Er, does she have catatonia?" Frodo asked nervously.  
  
"Nah, it's just what house elves do when they insult their master," Ron shrugged. Hermione glared at him. "Oh, come on!"  
  
"He comes from a land called Rohan," Winky continued, "and his name is Grima Wormtongue."  
  
"Listen, he's trying to speak," Hermione whispered.  
  
"That Eowyn, what a fox," Grima was mumbling. "Damn fine girl. Mother posed for "Maidens Without Their Shields," you know."  
  
"You hear that? He's got porn," Ron whispered awed. Hermione slapped him over the back of his head.  
  
"Yush, women are so hard to please," Grima continued, slurring. "Offered her world domination, a chance to backstab her uncle and brother and drive her people into the mud. Turned it down, that little hussy. And then she chose Aragorn over me, can you believe? Mental, that one. Nice jugs though." He burped and slid unconscious off his stool. A bevy of house elves instantly rushed over and threw a tablecloth over him, ashamed at the sight.  
  
"That was weird," Harry said. "Who's up for heading back?"  
  
"Hang on, I have to instigate this a little more," Ron declared stoutly, getting up and walking over to the drunk and passed out Grima. Bending down, he started to shake him by the arm. "Dude? Hey, dude, where did you get the porn? Oh come on, don't leave me hanging like this-"  
  
"Honestly!" Hermione huffed, rolling her eyes. "Let's go. Let him find his own way back." Flinging her hair over her shoulder, she rose and walked out of the room.  
  
Harry and Frodo hurriedly crammed whatever remaining sweets they could into their cloak pockets and picked up the remaining slices of mudcake. "Maybe if we ask Ron really nicely, he'll lend us that porn magazine when he gets back," Harry whispered hopefully to Frodo as they walked after Hermione.  
  
"Porn?" Frodo squinted in bewilderment. "Isn't that a type of grain?"  
  
"You and Seamus have got to talk," Harry said.  
  
Ahead of them Hermione screamed. Standing over her was a tall hooded figure. Frodo fell to the ground and screamed, clutching his shoulder. The figure removed his hood. It was Faramir. "What are you doing out of your common area after dark?" he asked.  
  
"Jeez, don't scare us like that," Frodo said, standing back up and dusting off his cloak. "Brings back bad memories, you know?"  
  
"Sorry," Faramir said. "But what "are" you doing here?"  
  
"Funny, as a prefect I should be asking you the same thing," Hermione snapped, glaring up at him. Brown eyes bored into blue. "Fine then, I will. What are "you" doing out of "your" common area after dark?"  
  
"I asked you first," Faramir said.  
  
"I asked you second," Hermione retorted. "But I can queue-jump. I'm a prefect, you see."  
  
"Guys, this is getting infantile," Harry said, rolling his eyes.  
  
"Funny you should mention that," Faramir said. "You see," he pushed back his cloak, showing something silver and gleaming on his chest, "as of this evening, I am a prefect too."  
  
Hermione gaped.  
  
"Yes, it turns out that this year's male Ravenclaw prefect was caught in a very compromising position in the Forbidden Forest with a centaur," Faramir continued stiffly. Ron and Harry both clapped hands over their mouths. "He has since been expelled and sent on his way to Durmstrang. Professor McGonagall suggested that I was the ideal replacement. She seems quite taken with me, for some reason."  
  
"Well, I think I did pretty well in making it as a prefect considering that, bearing in mind the gender of my house head, I had to rule out seduction as a means of assimilating that role," Hermione snapped. "And as much "respect" as I have for my "fellow" prefects, I must regretfully take five points off Ravenclaw for a student being out of his common area after dark."  
  
"Ah, but it is my duty night," Faramir was almost smiling as he said this. "I am permitted to remain in the halls at this time. You, on the other hand, are not. Twenty points off Gryffindor, five for each student. I also vaguely recall something about you threatening to take points of whatever house my brother was sorted into back at Kings Cross. That house turned out to be your own. By my calculations that now leaves you twenty five points in deficit."  
  
For a moment the three Gryffindor boys thought Hermione was going to hit Faramir. She clenched and unclenched her fists at her side, her face bright red with anger. Eventually she hissed, "Well, I should give you detentions for a month for having such a stupid prat as a brother. Thanks to him lying in my bed waiting to give me the hickey of my life after I got back from my shower, I will not get any sleep tonight. And tomorrow night is "my" duty night. It will be a very, very long day, and you have your idiotic brother to thank for that!" She brushed past Faramir and stormed off.  
  
The four boys glanced bemusedly at each other. "Hormonal, maybe?" Frodo eventually suggested delicately. "I know a cup of tea for that."  
  
When they arrived back at the common room not only was Hermione still downstairs, but Lavender and Parvati had joined her too. "Are Merry and Pippin still making that much noise?" Frodo asked.  
  
"No, Boromir got sick of waiting for Hermione to come back, so he tried it on with me, then with Lavender when that didn't work," Parvati announced loftily. "I don't know who he thinks he's fooling. He's gross, he's smelly, he snores, and he doesn't even know what star sign he is! Someone that loud and obnoxious can only be a Leo."  
  
Ron had gone bright red.  
  
"And when he got into bed with me, he tried to convince me that he had a nightmare," Lavender huffed. "Honestly! On Saturday night I dreamt about Draco Malfoy in a pink tutu singing "I'm Just A Sweet Transvestite" from The Rocky Horror Show. Now "that's" what I call a nightmare."  
  
"I don't think Dean would agree with you on that one," Harry said. "Good night girls."  
  
As the three boys made their way upstairs, they heard Merry and Pippin still singing, "This is the song that doesn't end."  
  
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A/N: Okay, because I missed a chapter of reviews this is kind of confusing. First I'll have the chapter six reviews, then the ones for chapter five. I'm still having trouble with reviews not making it onto the page, but they do still get sent to my email so I get to read them that way. Thank you everyone for your kind comments, they got me through a tough exam period!  
  
Another Rachel: Yes, Boromir is a sleaze. Hope you enjoyed "WALHFMF."  
  
Celeblas Elentari Manwe: lol, thanks! And a repeat reviewer! Welcome!  
  
Herringprincess: Wow, I'm happy someone thinks it's improving as I go along ("getting better and better"), there are moments when I think it may be doing the opposite! I too am looking forward to some delicious brothers of Gondor sibling rivalry.  
  
Lady Laura: Glad you liked the part where Hermione hits on Draco. I didn't plan it but inspiration struck. So now she has both Boromir and Draco lusting after her! Silly (or lucky, depending on your tastes) girl.  
  
Millenium Slinky: Love the nick. Eowyn has the perfect Goth personality (IMHO) and Faramir...well...*shrugs and glomps him*. Thanks for all the lovely comments, I'm very flattered.  
  
MissLexiRe: Glad you like it!  
  
Shewhodares: Boromir is such a goon! Hermione will be tearing out her hair. And I must find a woman for poor Sam. Hmm, plot bunny!  
  
Tori: Yeah, there always seem to be angry girls with sharp objects in their hands in my fics. Perhaps I should write Buffy fanfic? ;p Boromir and Draco may both be after our Hermione, but don't forget Faramir. And yes, I did mean to say "Divination." At least they rhyme ;). Aragorn's in Ravenclaw, not Slytherin. Not a popular decision, but in the book when he's not dicing up orcs he always seems to be talking about ancient folklore and singing poetry, so it I thought it may work. And thanks for wishing me luck on my exams!  
  
* * * * *  
  
Aislynn Crowdaughter: As I explained above, Aragorn does have many Ravenclaw tendencies. I couldn't put every single person in Gryffindor and out of the LOTR characters, I thought that he and Faramir would be most at home there. Remember Ravenclaws must be wise and fond of lore, and Aragorn especially with his story-telling and songs fits that group. Also many Gryffindors seem to be "heedless" risk-takers, and Aragorn only pursues danger when it's necessary. He isn't heroic for the sake of heroism, unlike Boromir, and is not a glory seeker. Come to think of it, I could almost put him in Hufflepuff! IMHO, Eowyn does not belong in Slytherin and Legolas is there for a reason (although if I was to sort him according to personality, I'd put him in Ravenclaw). Thanks for your comments on Harry, Hermione and Ron. I'm usually not interested in ficcing them but I kind of like them in crossover format. Having said all that thanks for your critiques. It's like having a very good beta.  
  
Bant: Agreed on the Ravenclaw thing. I'd be pretty smart after living 2,931 years too! And yes, aren't I evil leaving a cliffhanger?  
  
Celeblas Elentari Manwe: Such a pretty nick. I'm considering hiring an Auror to protect me from the amount of people who don't like me putting Legiloo in Slytherin. But glad you otherwise enjoyed the fic.  
  
Huan theWolfhound: Thanks for the comments. I liked the pipe scene too. I'm looking to put as many LOTR "inside jokes" as I can in this, as you saw with the part that had the Ringwraith flashback when Faramir meets Frodo and the marvellous three in the hallway.  
  
InDreams: Thanks! I like your nick too *hums FOTR soundtrack*  
  
Lady Laura: Yes, poor Sam being separated from Frodo. At least he's in the company of nice people though.  
  
MoroTheWolfGod: Yet another fangirl (grabs Boromir's shield off him while he's ogling Hermione and cowers behind it). Can't tell you at this stage whether he'll be a baddie or not. Sorry!  
  
Ola: Thanks! You seemed to enjoy reading it almost as much as I did writing it.  
  
Saturndragon: Yes, Legolas would work in Hufflepuff. I like him in Slytherin though, if only because he looks hot in green! No, I did have a concrete reason for putting him there.  
  
Shewhodares: Thanks for your reviews as always! Yes, Boromir and Hermione just crack me up, but I have someone better (or at least smarter) in store for her. Glad you could see Aragorn in Ravenclaw, but I think people got a bit confused and thought I'd put Eowyn in Slytherin when really she's in Hufflepuff. Hopefully my author's note got that sorted out.  
  
Many thanks to you all,  
  
Moi 


	8. Banter over Breakfast

Author's Note: Whoa, over a month since I updated this. I took a holiday from university (which unfortunately ended this week) but so did my muses, and I lost my chain of thought for a while and took a while to find it again.  
  
Shameless self-plug here: If you like "Truth or Dare" fics, I just finished "Natalia Adani and the Boys of Hogwarts." You probably don't want to read the previous 19 chapters, but the last one works as a stand-alone truth or dare and is just crazy.  
  
Anyway, onto the chapter!  
  
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Chapter Eight: Banter over Breakfast  
  
"I can't take this anymore," Hermione groaned, burying in her head in her hands.  
  
"You'll just have to tell Cho that you can't do duty tonight," Harry said, yawning.  
  
"And have a decent cup of coffee," Ron said, his hands shaking so much that he had drowned half his scrambled eggs in espresso. "That green tea crap you and Frodo drink won't do shit."  
  
"Well at least it won't give me the shakes like I'm some kind of drug addict," Hermione told him, reaching for a fat-free cinnamon bun. The threesome plus Frodo were sitting around the Gryffindor table, hollow-eyed and weary. Harry was on to his second cup of coffee and Ron had consumed too many to count.  
  
"In a sense caffeine is a drug," Frodo corrected Hermione. "So you would not need to say "like a drug addict" but just leave it as "drug addict," if you like."  
  
"Good point," Hermione beamed. Harry gave a small smile. Funny how Hermione was grossly offended whenever the new Ravenclaw prefect Faramir corrected her, but didn't seem to mind when Frodo did it. "Actually, Frodo, you're so perfect and wonderful and you drink green tea. Will you marry me? It's a joke," she added, seeing the hobbit spit out his freshly-squeezed orange juice.  
  
"Just ask Neville to cover your shift tonight," Harry suggested. "How he slept through the terrible two's infernal racket last night, I'll never know."  
  
Ron's mug in front of him was empty. "Geez, what I really want right now is some more coffee," he said out loud. Instantly his cup was filled with a pitch black mixture, the house elves in the kitchen working their magic. Hermione looked down at the coffee in distaste. "Thanks," Ron said and drained the mug.  
  
"You're going to die of a stomach ulcer by the time you're thirty," Hermione told him.  
  
"You say that like it's a bad thing," Harry joked. "Who knows, maybe the world could do with one less Weasley?" Ron pretended to look hurt.  
  
"Speaking of Weasleys, here's your sister," Hermione warned. Ginny was walking into the great hall clad in her crimson Quidditch robes, her broomstick slung over her shoulder. At the sight of her Frodo straightened in his seat.  
  
"Ginny!" Ron called happily as she approached, far too happily for any older brother unless he was planning to majorally humiliate his sister. Ginny was a smart girl, and her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "So, Gin, now that you've turned Dean, which guy are you shagging now?" Ron asked her.  
  
"That's none of your business," Ginny retorted, plopping down next to Hermione. "And FYI, Dean isn't gay. He's, um, creative."  
  
"Really?" Ron grinned. "How so?"  
  
"Am I the only one here who finds it really strange and disturbing that Ron is making insinuations about his baby sister's sex life?" Harry asked.  
  
"Quite right," Hermione said, at the same time as Ginny snapped, "I'm not a baby, like you'd ever notice!"  
  
"I've noticed," Frodo said quickly. He caught Hermione staring at him and quickly ducked his head.  
  
"So, fearless leader," Ginny said, turning to Harry who was the new Gryffindor Quidditch captain, "tryouts still on this morning?"  
  
"Wha'?" Harry blinked.  
  
"Quid. Itch. Try. Outs," Ginny repeated and rolled her eyes. "Oh, poor Harry, did no one tell you about those? You're only the captain."  
  
Harry swore and smacked his forehead. Hermione tut-tutted. "Bugger, that means I have them to," Ron said.  
  
"Well, since you "are" the goal-keeper, one may assume that you are indeed on the team," Ginny snapped. "It appears I'm going to have to get everyone motivated around here. Honestly, if you wanted something said, ask a man, but if you want something done, then ask a woman."  
  
"Here, here," Frodo backed her up. Harry gave him a strange look.  
  
"So, since Angelina, Alicia, Katie and the twins all left last year, we have two Beaters and - with me being one this year - two Chasers to replace," Ginny continued. "Let's forget about Kirke and Sloper for now. They were a joke."  
  
"Must you talk about Quidditch so early in the morning?" Ron groaned. "It's like having Oliver Wood back again."  
  
"I think Ginny should be captain," Frodo said.  
  
"I was beginning to like you, mate," Harry said and glared at him. Ginny, meanwhile, was not glaring at Frodo, but beaming at him.  
  
"Well, with three decent Chasers last year and a good Seeker we could get by with crap Beaters," Ron began, suddenly animated now that his cup of coffee had kicked in. "But with the Chasers we'll probably have "this" year- "  
  
"Ahem," Ginny said.  
  
"-I mean, I mean," Ron said hurriedly, seeing that Ginny was wacking her broom threateningly into the palm of her hand, "you're good, Gin, but you're only one person. You can't pass to yourself, you know. I reckon all we need is one decent Beater and one more good Chaser and we should be fine."  
  
All turned as two pairs of footsteps echoed through the hall. The first belonged to Professor McGonagall, who was wearing her nightcap and tartan robe. The second person to enter the Great Hall was a tall, well-built male with sandy brown hair and tanned skin. Lavender and Parvati, who had appeared in the doorway a few seconds after McGonagall and the guest, stood there and gaped at him.  
  
"Hermione," she said stiffly, drawing to a stop next to where they were seated at the head of the table, "this is Theodred of Rohan, an exchange student from our sister school in Middle Earth. Theodred wasn't going to attend, but the head of the Middle Earth Wizarding Academy decided that since she had already brought one student back from the dead in the form of Boromir of Gondor-"  
  
"I wish she'd left him dead," Hermione muttered.  
  
"-it was only fair that Theodred should be able to attend," McGonagall continued as if she hadn't heard Hermione's complaint. "Besides, I do believe that our house Quidditch team is a Beater or two short?"  
  
The four students were silent when McGonagall left, then bombarded the stranger with questions. "You've been sorted into Gryffindor?" Ginny gaped.  
  
"Do you play Quidditch?" Harry asked him.  
  
"No, but I shot an Orc from one hundred yards as a nine year old, killed a wild boar with my bare hands when I was twelve, and recently rode for four days straight trying to outrun a Nazgul," Theodred replied. "I can wield a sword, knives, a battleaxe and mase in battle, am considered the best horseman in the Riddermark, am comfortable dealing with an adult-sized troll and-"  
  
Harry and Ron shared a look. "Yep, I believe he's well-equipped to take on Crabbe and Goyle," Ron said.  
  
"You're in," Harry told Theodred. "But don't kill them - tempting as it is - just send heaps of Bludgers their way."  
  
"What are Bludgers?" Theodred asked.  
  
"They're hard little black balls you hit at the other team whenever possible, especially their Seeker," Ginny explained.  
  
"Ah," Theodred's face cleared. "We play a similar game back in Edoras, but riding horses, not broomsticks, and with Orcs heads instead of Bludgers." Ron and Harry shared a look that said *Don't ask*. "Now, could you tell me whether or not Boromir was sorted into this house? We have a lot to catch up on. It's hard to keep tabs on the gossip network when you're dead."  
  
"Or possessed," Ginny added. Hermione turned to look at her. "What?"  
  
"Is Boromir a friend of yours?" Hermione asked thinly. Theodred nodded. "Well, then, would you mind explaining to me why he is such a sleaze?"  
  
"I don't pretend to understand Gondorians," Theodred shrugged. "Now, I'll bid you good-day." He turned on his heel and strode out of the room.  
  
"Nice arse," Ginny said.  
  
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I can't open the review page right now, but I promise to have the new chapter up every soon, something about Eowyn laying the smack-down to the apathetic Hufflepuffs about Quidditch and Gollum acting like Kreacher. Thanks for being so patient with me! 


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